


when the party's over

by krucxa



Category: The Boyz (Korea Band)
Genre: ...?, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universes, Angst, Juyeon centric, M/M, Magical Realism, Pining, Reality Bending, Timey-Wimey, god this is hard to tag, i guess this kinda counts as
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:56:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27917122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krucxa/pseuds/krucxa
Summary: The world is frozen around him, and Juyeon can't bring himself to believe it.
Relationships: Lee Jaehyun | Hyunjae/Lee Juyeon
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	when the party's over

**Author's Note:**

> okay, this was supposed to be a oneshot, but i feel like i would have dropped writing this if i didn't decide to make it a chaptered fic instead, so... here's the first chapter i guess dksmf   
>  some parts of this aren't proofread yet!   
>  also, idk if this is needed but cw: alcohol ?

Juyeon isn't exactly a _goes clubbing to unwind_ type of person, mostly because he either lacks the energy or simply doesn't have the time for it. So of course something unexplainable has to happen the one time he goes; because the universe likes to make his life insufferable, apparently.

He didn't even have any super important reason to come here to begin with. The idea came to him out of the good old boredom, and feeling strangely spontaneous, he made the decision to dress up and go out. Alone. Because all of his friends are either busy or not in the mood, or something, he didn't really pay much attention after the initial rejections.

It's surprising even to him, though he blames it on the summer and its monotonous nature. Every day seems to blend into the other and at one point Juyeon grew tired of it, as it just started feeling tedious.

And again, he doesn't really go clubbing, period. Even if he liked it more than he does, he would rather do so in company, go with someone that he knows well, and try to keep as much distance from any strangers as a packed club made it possible. Which probably isn't too much distance, but, well. He would manage. Maybe.

Either way, even though usually it would make him nervous, tonight, the change is welcome. He'd felt a bit overdressed on his way there, fidgeting with the cyan sunglasses perched on top of his nose, but the unfamiliar setting distracted him pretty easily, so, really, it's no wonder how fast he ends up drinking in hopes of loosening up. That, and getting… far from sober. And in _great_ need to use the toilet.

At least no one has tried to hit him up because he doesn't need to excuse himself awkwardly. That's always a plus.

The restroom, as he finds out, doesn't smell too nice (though he doesn't even want to guess why) but the music isn't as loud inside so there's at least one positive aspect to it, he thinks. He has to admit, the volume was getting a bit overwhelming, so he feels his shoulders relaxing almost immediately after the door closes behind him.

There's only one person inside, but they leave right after Juyeon comes in, so now he's blissfully alone, quite drunk, and his wallet feels a lot lighter than before—but that's only his imagination, right? God, he really hopes it is—so instead of spending as little time inside as possible, he doesn't really rush, cherishing a moment of peace despite how disgusting the restroom really is.

It occurs to him only after a good minute that it's actually a bit weird that he's all by himself in the restroom, shouldn't there be some attendant? It's true that he doesn't often visit such places, but he's heard enough to assume so; but as Juyeon looks around again, the room is still just as empty. Maybe _he's_ the weird one here. Maybe the smell is the sole reason the restroom is pretty much deserted.

Well. Juyeon doesn't want to think about it too much. It's not even like he can focus on one thing for long, not right now.

He's in that odd state when his chest feels a bit like molten lava and his legs are somewhat unsteady under his weight, but he tries to pay it no mind. At least his mood has improved since this evening, even if he may regret this whole thing later, most probably tomorrow morning.

The thing is, Juyeon doesn't really want the morning to come. He wishes that this moment could stretch out for impossibly longer, maybe even stop, just so he could truly appreciate this one night out before going back to the routine.

He hums while he washes his hands, some tune that's been stuck in his mind for the whole day but he can't for the life of him remember what song it's from, and he shimmies a bit in place while waving his palms, waiting for them to dry.

He doesn't really trust the hand dryer right now. Maybe it's just his intoxicated mind, but it looks way too suspicious like this, like it's just waiting to bite his fingers off. And Juyeon isn't falling for that, so he dances in place to his own melody, ignoring the muffled song coming through the wall because it doesn't really suit his tastes to begin with. And when he feels his hands finally dry, he snaps his fingers, satisfied, before pushing the door open… and then he stops.

Now, he might be drunk, but even like this he can tell that something isn't right. And it's not just a small thing, just a detail easily passable as unimportant—it's way worse than that.

It's the whole club.

The whole club looks like a paused scene straight out of a movie. And movies are cool, Juyeon's mind adds unhelpfully, so that's not really what's bad about this entire situation. It's that one word that's the problem here. _Paused_.

Not a single person inside is moving and Juyeon isn't exactly a clubgoer but he's pretty sure that's not too normal.

So, yeah. Whatever is happening right now—he doesn't like it.

At first, he blames it on the drinks. He's not thinking straight, so maybe he's seeing things, too, even if alcohol doesn't really work that way. But he blinks a couple of times anyway, closing his eyes for a prolonged amount of time before he opens them again. The action doesn't help much, though, and he lets out a scoff, disappointed.

Then, he thinks, maybe this whole thing is just a prank. Some hidden camera kind of thing, or something, he doesn't really know how that stuff works but maybe everyone acting as if they're frozen in time, the whole club almost eerily silent, may just be that—trying to get a reaction out of the unfortunate person that stumbles upon it, in this case Juyeon.

Well. If they want a reaction, then they aren't getting one. Certainly not from him.

So, with that thought in mind, he heads towards the exit. Pushing through the crowd is so much easier when literally no one is moving, much less acknowledging his presence, so really, Juyeon can't be _that_ mad at the stupid prank. Even if it kind of ruins his night, but, well, he can always find another club, or maybe some bar, if he still doesn't feel like going home yet.

Only time will tell if he does.

So it only really takes a minute until Juyeon successfully stumbles out of the club; as he looks around the street, he distractedly notes how empty it is. Which isn't really that surprising, given the late hour.

It's something else entirely that makes him stop in his tracks, confusion mixed with fear seeping through his body. It feels just like a cup of cold water poured down his clothes would, spreading slow but steady, shocking upon contact, and he recognizes the same drastic contrast that comes with it. It's overwhelming, but how couldn't it be?

The world is frozen around him, and Juyeon can't bring himself to believe it. He blinks a few times again, and his sight is as clear as it can be, yet the car a few meters from him stands in place—and that would be totally understandable, if not for the fact that it's in the middle of the road, and the driver is staring straight ahead, unmoving, just like the car itself.

Tearing his eyes away, Juyeon turns to glance at the lady across the road. It doesn't take a genius to realize what she's doing; the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear as she ruffles through her purse says it all. Though, her lips are parted, stuck on a syllable that she didn't get to utter because everything around is frozen for some reason and with every passing second, Juyeon grows more anxious.

Because it's then that it hits him—it's not due to his drunken state, nor is it a prank. He's not seeing things, and he probably didn't pass out in the middle of the restroom either. This is reality, as terrifying as it may seem, and Juyeon doesn't know what to do.

In his defense, this isn't really a day to day situation, is it? He never even considered the world suddenly freezing as some _normal_ , plausible thing that can actually happen; and yet. Here he is. Standing right outside the club, pretty damn out of it, and he isn't sure if he'd prefer being sober right now or if he thinks he's not drunk enough to deal with this.

Maybe neither. Maybe both. He doesn't really care, though he does feel a bit sick. It's honestly a miracle that he doesn't throw up.

Instinctively, he brings a hand to his mouth, just in case, and thinks about his options.

Option one, obviously, he could stay here. Ignore the world and walk back inside and maybe dance a bit more despite the eerie silence before, like, passing out, or something. Which is always a sound plan except for the fact that he doesn't really feel like partying right now, and especially not on his own.

Option two, he could move. Go, but where? Home? Yeah, he could head back home. He doesn't know how that could help this situation but surely if he's back to the comfort of his own apartment (and more importantly his warm, lovely bed) he could figure something out. Eventually. Perhaps. If he's determined enough, but only after a sobering power nap, of course.

After careful (well, as careful as it may be while he's positively drunk) consideration, he decides to go with the second option. Purely because he's probably in shock and his knees feel dangerously wobbly under his weight. So. Yes. The second option sounds definitely safer. As long as he doesn't trip on his way back and fall face first to the ground.

Hopefully he won't.

So he takes a few calming breaths, making sure that he isn't, actually, going to puke, and with that, he recalls the way back (which, in his current state, feels like such a feat) before turning right and heading into the street that he's sure will take him home. Usually the walk wouldn't take too long, but there's nothing usual about this situation so he really hopes that he'll get back home soon, and most importantly, safe.

That's when an idea strikes him and he fumbles with his leather jacket before finally fishing his phone out of the (unreasonably deep, surely) pocket. He glares at it for a moment, and it takes him embarrassingly long to unlock it, but he makes a proud little noise when he gets it done.

The clock blinking up at him from the screen is, well, predictably—at this point, obviously, not at any other time—frozen. It shows a time too late to be considered waking hours, but way too early to be considered the morning. Despite that, he tries to test his luck and clicks into his contacts list.

Now, an important question—whom should he call under such circumstances? He's never really thought about it, so he isn't sure which of his friends would be the most reliable during a time like this.

Not that he really believes any of them will actually pick up, since the world is frozen and all, but one can hope.

Eventually, he guesses, maybe Eric would be the best option. But then his finger slips and he calls Hyunjae instead.

For just a split second, his heart threatens to fall out his ass. Maybe it's because of his feelings (yikes) or it's just due to the fact that he prefers texting—which is true, yes, but not the point.

In the end it's because it's Hyunjae, of all people, and there's pure chaos happening in Juyeon's chest as he watches the name written on the screen while the call rings out, and he briefly wonders if this is what heart palpitations feel like. He could, potentially, blame it all on the alcohol, but even he wouldn't believe that. He knows better than to trust anything his mind tries to tell him if it concerns Hyunjae.

The call ends. The stuttering in his chest doesn't.

He'll have to work on that.

But most importantly, he'll have to get home first.

With that thought in mind, he pushes himself forward again. And so he walks. And walks. He's sure that by this point he should have already made it into the familiar alley that he goes through every time he meets up with Eric, yet the street seems to stretch out before him, as if he isn't making any progress at all.

Dragging his legs ahead, he drops his head and buries his hands in the pockets of his jacket. It's thin, definitely not warm enough for the weather but at least there's no one around to see him shiver.

Hold that thought.

There's no one around.

It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say that the realization strikes him frozen. He stands there, in the middle of the empty road, trying his damn best to move but his feet are pressed firmly to the ground. This doesn't make sense, but then, nothing about this situation really does.

Still, it's weird. He barely came to terms with time possibly stopping—well, not exactly, he's still trying to wrap his mind around that—so one would think that's all there is to it. Just that, being stuck in time without any explanation or reason, not to mention a way out. The least he could have expected was for the world to stay exactly the same around him.

But when Juyeon finally raises his head and looks around he doesn't recognize this street at all.

The problem is, he knows this side of the town. He literally lives here. For all that he knows, he should have come to a stop right in front of his apartment building at this very moment. Instead, there's a cinema standing right in its place.

Now, Juyeon is well aware that he's not sober, but the one thing he's sure of is that there's no way he would get lost, not here, not now. So what if he's still in shock? It's supposed to be a fifteen minute walk, for god's sake. There's no way that he would have taken a wrong turn, not when there wasn't any to begin with.

And so he stands there, trying to get his bearings, when he notices movement from the corner of his eye, much like a shadow on one of the rooftops. Raising his head, he squints, finding it hard to focus on one specific point, but he's sure that he sees a figure standing on one roof. When he turns to properly look at it, though, the silhouette is gone. So maybe it was just his imagination. Lord, he really hopes that it _was_ his imagination.

It's probably all due to the fact that there's no actual person in sight. Perhaps he just feels lonely, to some degree, and that's why his mind is making up some shadow figures to keep him company. But that's so unnecessarily creepy though, he'd rather not make this situation any more scary than it already is, and he would really appreciate it if his mind ceased its games.

So he takes a shaky breath, slowly releasing it, almost feels better before he registers even more movement, and it sure looks like the damn shadow just _jumped down_ from another building and may be, actually, leaping towards him.

Obviously, he does what his gut tells him to; he darts away, sprinting for his life. He doesn't even have any destination in mind other than _the fuck away from that thing_ and the fact that he's still unfortunately very much drunk and his legs threaten to give out under him doesn't help.

Despite it all, he's determined. Determined, to what? Come out alive, maybe, he can't really think straight when his mind is strictly yelling at him to get as far away as possible. His throat starts to burn with every breath he takes, and he truly hadn't noticed when the air turned chill but unlike it, his skin feels aflame.

It only takes him one distraction to trip over his own feet. His last thought is nothing more than a curse, right before he stumbles, falls over, losing his consciousness upon contact with the solid, cold pavement.

* * *

Juyeon wakes up. He doesn't throw himself forward, doesn't scream, doesn't kick the blanket away. All that he does is lie there, while his heart beats a mile a minute, threatening to jump right out of his chest. Alas, he stays frozen.

His hands and legs feel unnaturally cold and clammy, but apart from that, his body is burning, as if he really had been running mere seconds ago. His fringe sticks to his forehead from all the sweat and he's honestly overwhelmed by the anxiety when he does nothing to release it.

Seconds fly by, yet his eyes remain wide open, staring off into the distance. Physically, he's there, but his mind is somewhere far away, wandering into dark alleys, chill air and shadows figures that chase after him.

He wants to believe that it was all just a fucked up dream, but he can't recall ever going to sleep. Neither, heading into his room. Nor changing into his sleepwear. Nothing. His memory doesn't offer him any reasonable explanation for what could have actually happened.

Eventually, he pushes himself up, robotically going through his daily routine; but somewhere at the back of his mind, the events from last night keep replaying again and again.

It's like he's stuck in a daze; the day goes on like it usually would, but it's not like he could bring himself to really care about that much. It's actually underwhelming in how normal it is.

Every time he checks the hour, the seconds tick away, unbothered by his piercing stare, and every time he feels like he's losing a bit of his sanity.

"Are you okay?"

It's Eric's voice, one that he's used to hearing so often yet the unfamiliar concern dripping from these words actually manages to startle him out of his thoughts. They're sitting on a couch, he notes, though for the life of him he can't recall what they were doing up until now. The light coming from the TV almost hurts his eyes, despite the fact that they should have already gotten used to it if they're, what, in the middle of watching a movie?

The fact that he can't focus on it only serves to unsettle him further.

He forces himself to nod, "yeah," he murmurs back, painfully aware that it took him too long to reply for it to seem casual. He can feel Hyunjae's— _Hyunjae's?_ —gaze boring into him, uncharacteristically quiet, as if calculating. Eric, on the other hand, lets the topic drop.

He simply pauses, huffs out an, "alright," and goes back to watching the movie, but not without sending him another pointed look.

Relieved, Juyeon turns the slightest bit to the side, hoping to subtly steal a glance at Hyunjae; but the man is still staring at him, so obviously it doesn't really work. On the contrary, Hyunjae quirks up an eyebrow, but doesn't speak. He doesn't have to. His eyes alone seem to say _you don't look okay_ , prying an answer out of Juyeon through that alone.

Juyeon's throat closes up. He looks away.

It's not like he could explain anyway.

* * *

It happens again.

Two whole weeks went by peacefully, uneventful enough that Juyeon almost started to believe that what he remembers was actually just a bad dream.

(As if he could fully convince himself of that. Deep inside, he knows that it couldn't have been anything _reasonable_ like that. He's aware of the fact that it all felt too real to just be a nightmare, and he's also positive that he hadn't been drugged, as he kept a careful watch over his drinks the entire time he'd spent inside the club. It couldn't have been a dream, not when he checks his call history and the most recent one shows the hour when time seemingly had stopped.)

It's a blazingly hot day, one that has Juyeon sweating buckets even while wearing a tanktop; Eric and him rushed to a convenience store to escape the heat, and although the change of the temperature isn't a great one, it's enough for them to let out two identical sighs of relief. It's almost comical how synchronized that was.

Eric doesn't look much better than Juyeon currently feels; he rubs at his temples to wipe the sweat away, positively suffering even inside the shop, and Juyeon takes pity on him, waving his hand at the other as if that would help. Eric closes his eyes and hums appreciatively anyway.

Now, one would argue that since they're already here, then it would be reasonable to actually buy something before leaving. Juyeon has one thing in mind—his eyes scan their surroundings before he finally finds what he's looking for.

He snaps his fingers to get Eric's attention and points towards the strawberry popsicles. These should do. He'd already checked the price, deemed it reasonable enough and even would go as far as to buy these for the both of them, in case the other forgot to bring his wallet. Though, after a few seconds pass without a response, he lifts his head, glancing at Eric—and then he feels dread washing over him.

It actually happened again.

He isn't sure what triggered the time to stop, but alas, he finds himself in the middle of this stupid convenience store that's now completely frozen in time. Eric stands frozen mid-way of turning towards him, eyebrows raised high and lips barely parted, as if he was just about to speak. When Juyeon glances over his shoulders, he notices a couple more customers that had just entered the aisle. One of them frowns at the other, who responds with a smile, captured for minutes, hours, or maybe even longer while time as they know it remains still.

It seems like his shopping will be cut short today.

Damn, he really wanted that popsicle. Now he has to suffer through the heat while trying to figure out what the fuck is even happening.

So. Juyeon takes a moment to just breathe, to get accustomed with the situation at hand. He could stay where he is, yes, but then what? Wait for the time to start flowing again? And how long would that take? There isn't even a way to know if it actually will. Just because Juyeon passed out once and woke up in his bed, it doesn't mean that things would go back to normal again.

That's why he squares his shoulders, makes up his mind, and leaves the store, with one last look at Eric's unmoving figure. If he's now stuck… here, then the least he can do is look for some entertainment. Or a way back, maybe. Not that he even has the slightest idea what that would entail.

Once again, as he walks, he notices the way that the further he goes, the world seems to become less and less comprehensible, somehow. Similar to the way that nothing is truly consistent in a dream; one moment, he stares at a library, then when he glances at it again, it has turned to a music store.

He jumps over cracks in the pavement that he doesn't remember seeing mere seconds ago, steps into a puddle despite the fact that it's not raining, and sees a rainbow from the corner of his eye. When he turns to actually look at it, it's gone; though there's a silhouette in its place, standing on top of a rooftop quite like the first time Juyeon remembers entering this state.

Despite his first instinct being the urge to run, Juyeon realizes that there's something different about it this time around. This time, it isn't just a shadow; it's clearly a person, but no matter how much he squints, he can't make them out from such a distance. Surprisingly, though, he can feel their gaze on him.

He expects it to feel eerie; instead, it fills him with this weird kind of comfort, as if someone's out there, watching over him, making sure that he's safe. Perhaps this is why, this time, he doesn't book it, simply continues on his walk as if he didn't even notice the interesting presence.

It's gone as fast as it appeared; when Juyeon chances another glance up, he finds the rooftops completely empty. Despite that, the feeling of comfort remains.

Today, he isn't scared to venture into this weird world. Today, he finds it quite fascinating.

He isn't sure how much time he spends moving forward. It's not like checking the hour would help much, anyway, not when the clock in his phone had stopped the moment everything around him did. But eventually, the street turns wider, the buildings on the sides grow taller, and he thinks it's fair to say that this must be somewhere close to the centre of the city. If, wherever he is right now, there is a center locked in place; so far, it didn't seem like it.

And one would have thought that by now, he had grown used to this unusual situation, yet the sight before him punches the air out of his lungs. For the first time in what feels like hours, he stops, blankly staring ahead.

All because Eric is in the middle of the street, perched on top of a flipped over car. He doesn't seem like the Eric that Juyeon knows though, not entirely. This Eric is… unfamiliar, somehow. Juyeon can't even pinpoint at first what makes it so obvious, but _this_ Eric may not be the same person that he was hanging out with earlier that day.

Maybe it's the fact that there's no one else around that makes it so noticable, the differences between the one that Juyeon knows and the one ahead of him.

For starters, the Eric before him has light brown hair, which is already a huge hint as Eric, that is, Juyeon's best friend, might as well be a natural blonde at this point. Another gaping difference is the fact that the person he's looking at is wearing a dress—one that could pass off as a tunic, at that, if only it was paired with pants; meanwhile, Juyeon vividly remembers Eric wearing a shirt and shorts that day.

The boy swings his legs as he sits, appearing unbothered by the heat—though, Juyeon notes, it seems like the air has turned colder after he left the convenience store. Perhaps time and space is getting fuzzy. Inconsistent. At this point, he wouldn't be surprised.

This entire thing doesn't make sense, but maybe Juyeon is getting used to it now. He wanders closer, taking careful steps ahead, as if fearing that the ground would collapse under him under more pressure. His footsteps are light, so it's not surprising that it takes a good moment for the other to notice his presence.

By the time he gets close enough that he wouldn't have to yell to be overheard, he stops in place. It's not that he doesn't think it would be safe for him to go further, but he would rather keep his distance. For now, at least.

"Eric?" he calls, but even to himself he doesn't sound as sure as one would while greeting a friend. It _is_ Eric, of course it is, but there's an air of unfamiliarity surrounding him. He's just… different, plain different, there's no other way to describe it; but when his gaze snaps up to meet Juyeon's, there's recognition in his eyes, and a little bit of the same confusion that Juyeon currently feels.

"Juyeon?" he replies, something like amazement flicking through his gaze, "where's your scar…?"

Juyeon pauses.

"My what?"

For a few seconds, neither of them speak. The silence stretches out, and it's almost awkward, because he's never felt uncertain around Eric, not like this.

A gust of wind passes by them, ruffling up Juyeon's hair. It's the center of the city, yet it's so impossibly quiet, it unnerves him like nothing else. Eric looks just as troubled, though; he glances around, letting his gaze bounce off the deserted street, the empty stores, the grass growing through the cracks in the sidewalk. Then, he finally speaks up, "nevermind. You're not my Juyeon, aren't you?"

And the thing is, the words sound absolutely surreal but somehow he understands exactly what the other means. Slowly, he shakes his head, earning a hum from Eric.

"Thought so," with that, the boy looks at him, _really_ looks at him; he drags his gaze up Juyeon's silhouette, as if comparing him to the person that he knows, before huffing out, "interesting. I've always enjoyed the idea of alternate universes."

Then it clicks.

Juyeon isn't just going crazy; he's had a feeling before, that whatever is happening, there must be something more to it. Well, there's _something_ , alright.

After all, what else would be going on, when there's an Eric in front of him, but not the Eric that he personally knows? What else would explain this strange encounter?

The answer seems so obvious now, but at the same time, the fact only creates even more questions. It almost makes his head hurt.

He takes a steadying breath. He thinks it's only fair for him to freak out a bit at the prospect of infinite alternate universes—if they even are infinite. If there's more than his one and the one this different Eric comes from. Questions, more questions, yet no answers.

Raising his hand to gesture vaguely around them, he prods, "so you think this is it? A different reality, of sorts?"

To his surprise, though, the boy pauses, considering the question. He purses his lips, lifting his gaze towards the sky, before eventually settling on, "no. This doesn't feel like… enough."

Enough, Juyeon repeats in his mind. As he looks around the empty street they've found themselves in, he supposes he gets what Eric may be saying. If this is an alternate universe, then where is everyone? More importantly, why does this place feel as if it could collapse at any given moment?

"I think," Eric continues, finally meeting Juyeon's gaze, "this isn't an entire world on its own. Perhaps it's just something in between. Some… limbo."

Juyeon nods, slowly processing the statement. The thing is, if he spent enough time here, wherever _here_ is, he probably would have come to the same conclusion. It's as reasonable as this entire situation could get.

"Would that mean that we're dead?" Juyeon ponders aloud, earning himself a curious glance from Eric. The other almost looks amused.

"Well, do you _feel_ dead?"

That makes Juyeon pause. He blinks, startled by such a question, before looking down at his hands, clenching and releasing them as if to make sure that he can still do so, "...no."

"Then perhaps we aren't," Eric states, with a short but certain nod. He fidgets with the material of the dress, rubbing it between his fingers, as if looking for that same comfort, the same confirmation that they are, in fact, alive, "either way, this is truly interesting. Even though I don't know how we got here, it was nice meeting you, other Juyeon."

It feels an awful lot like parting words. It makes Juyeon hesitate, before murmuring back, "likewise."

A beat passes, filling the space between them with silence. It's not awkward, but not comfortable either; instead, it's full of wonder, as they're both drowning in their own thoughts, their own endless questions for the universe.

Eric looks up, watching as the clouds part above. He swings his legs once more, before pushing himself off the car. With a small smile, he offers over his shoulder, "I think this is a sign for me to go."

A sign. Is it? Juyeon wouldn't really know, though it is a bit weird that the sky covered in clouds the second that Juyeon joined him, and cleared at this very moment.

If Eric was right about the alternate realities, then this might just be the first and last time they'd ever see each other. That's why, before the boy even gets to walk away, Juyeon calls out, "let me ask one question, before we part ways."

That gets Eric to pause. He turns, enough to meet Juyeon's eye, and tilts his head in a silent question. Juyeon clears his throat.

"In your universe… are me and Hyunjae, you know?"

This time, when Eric smiles, there's something like pity reflected in his eyes, "not in my world, no."

Juyeon releases a shaky breath. It's not like he was expecting anything else, not from a realistic point of view. He'd always known that Hyunjae is just slightly out of his reach.

As he watches Eric's silhouette get smaller with every step he takes, Juyeon comes to a conclusion.

"Maybe we're just not meant to be."

* * *

Juyeon blinks.

It takes him a few long seconds to notice, to get accustomed with his surroundings, but all of sudden, he's back at the convenience store, and Eric (his Eric, his best friend, it's only been so long and he'd already missed him) looks at him with a raised eyebrow, like he's waiting for a reply.

The air is hot around them again, and immediately, Juyeon finds that there's one downside to going back.

"What?" he asks, and the second eyebrow joins the first one, raised high on Eric's forehead.

"That's my line," he replies, gesturing vaguely towards Juyeon, "you were the one that tried to catch my attention, not the other way around."

"Right," he huffs out, immediately thinking back to what they were doing before the time and space started malfunctioning again. With a single glance at the ice cream freezer in front of them, the strawberry popsicles pop into his mind, and he point towards them, "what would you say if I offered you these?"

Erin grins, "I'd say hell yeah, man."

**Author's Note:**

> i know that hyunjae didn't show up all that much yet and i'm sorry for that but also i hope this wasn't boring snnsd   
>  if any of u want more of this fic then Please tell me i need that motivation to finish this   
>  also, here's my [twt](https://twitter.com/ddonibell)!


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